Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,10
hiding in the shadows has no similar features to Nikolai, not even their eye coloring is a match, but they give off the vibe of brothers. If my intuition is right, and the stranger is still breathing, that can only mean one thing. He’s the infamous Rico Nikolai’s men talk about all the time. The dead Rico Popov.
I realize I’m on the money when Nikolai asks, “Have you ever seen a ghost, Trey?”
Although incapacitating memories have me wanting to nod, I shake my head instead.
When Nikolai’s spots its waggle, he murmurs, “You have now.”
I watch him cross the room with my mouth hanging open and my mind shut down. I knew he was tiptoeing toward a minefield when he gave up his favorite whore just for the chance to slip between his lawyer’s sheets, and don’t get me started on the possessiveness that beamed out of him when his crew spent the weekend shacked up at his girl’s crash pad, but this, this goes beyond anything I could have predicted. He isn’t just tiptoeing toward danger anymore, he’s gone full tilt, blind to the warning signs flashing before him.
I can only hope this mafia prince’s sprint through a battlefield doesn’t end as disastrously as mine did, or hell will be empty from all the devils uniting to execute his revenge.
Four
Sales Docket Number 12574
As I rock in the corner, I cover my ears, fighting to ignore their screams. I’m so angry at myself—so very, very mad. I let him break me. And for what? To have him smile at me before he threw me into a room even barer than the one I was in before he stole the last bit of dignity I had left. The food he promised me isn’t even served on a tray. My toilet no longer has a lid. I’m not even allowed to shower anymore.
That’s for the good girls.
The ones who say please and thank you.
He might have me forgetting who I once was, but he didn’t force me to speak. I whimpered, and my eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t utter a syllable.
I think that’s what saved me from him. He hit me, kicked me, and screamed words at me I didn’t understand, and he did it while I was naked, but he was as sickened by my soundless sobs as me, the only part of his body that came close to mine was his shriveled-up penis when he requested for me to spit on it.
I wanted to tell him to go to hell.
I wanted to spit in his face.
But instead of doing either of those things, I broke.
I wouldn’t have if Ana’s cries weren’t still ringing in my ears. I gave in for her as much as I did for me. I’m too hungry to keep fighting and way too tired. I can’t keep doing this day in and day out. You don’t realize how exhaustive fighting is until it finally dawns on you that it’ll never end.
Whether here or in Prague, my life has always been one struggle after another.
Once Vladimir finished, which I’m pleased to say wasn’t long enough for me to remember, he tucked away his penis while warning me I better surpass his expectations tonight, and that every man who enters my room better leave with a smile, or I’ll be punished again. Except this time, no amount of tears will save me.
I should be pleased I’m not dead, but in some ways, that just adds to the torment. Death is the coward’s way out, and even though I’m a sex slave, I’ll never be a coward.
I awaken startled when the screams return. These are different than the ones that lulled me to sleep several hours ago. They’re not begging for the pain to stop or for food. They’re begging to be freed.
That can only mean one thing.
It isn’t a new bidder being shown the ropes.
It’s a new victim.
Concrete dust kicks up around my knees when I crawl across the filthy floor. I don’t know who had this room before me, but it’s clear they lost the will to live long before they died. The vomit at the side of the door looks like it’s been there for weeks.
It takes me blinking three times in a row before the visual through the keyhole clears enough that I see a redheaded woman being marched down the corridor. She appears as heartbroken as I feel about the numerous pleas for her help.
Although she’s naturally slender, the meat on her bones